


I Missed You

by theparanoidwriter



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Missing someone, depression description kinda, it's mostly fluff I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 05:50:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2681489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theparanoidwriter/pseuds/theparanoidwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written for lovely tumblr user thegirlwhowroteinclass as a cheer up/birthday present.<br/>I hope you like it!<br/>I promise, I counted there's only like 986 words of semi angst and the other 1500 or so are all floofy fluff.</p>
    </blockquote>





	I Missed You

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for lovely tumblr user thegirlwhowroteinclass as a cheer up/birthday present.  
> I hope you like it!  
> I promise, I counted there's only like 986 words of semi angst and the other 1500 or so are all floofy fluff.

He didn’t know exactly what had caused it or how long it would last, all he knew was that Jean was upset and isolating himself. Jean hadn’t told him exactly what, just that he felt overwhelmed and that it was for the best that he go. Anybody could say that Jean was being dramatic, that he was overreacting as he, admittedly, had a tendency to do, but there was no mistaking the pain in his eyes when he left that day.

  
“I, I got to go. I’ll...text you?”

  
Marco had wanted to ask, “when?” but he felt it too inconsiderate to do that; he didn’t want to put any further stress on Jean by guilting him. He had simply nodded his head, smiled and wished Jean the best on his time away. He had waited for Jean to turn back a few steps later, to face him and to crack a grin, announcing that it was all a prank. A joke. A rather harsh, cold hearted joke, but that could be dealt with.  
It wasn’t even that Marco had this desperate need to cling to his boyfriend; it wasn’t that he just refused to give him up - no, that was it exactly. There was more to the situation than just not being Jean’s boyfriend for the time being, he wasn’t simply surrendering him to the community. In fact, if Jean had told him that it was over, if Jean had broken up with him, if Jean had told him that they couldn’t see each other forever, he would have left the situation with a much lighter heart than he left that one.

  
And it wasn’t because he was himself a cold hearted person, he didn’t hate Jean, the exact opposite. What he had heard and seen was not the mark of a man ending a relationship, nor one putting it on hold, it was a man putting the world on hold. Putting his friends on hold. School on hold. Clubs, sports, family, his existence itself, was being put on hold. The look in Jean’s eyes hadn’t been hollow, no, even that which is hollow has some sort of base, an outer skeleton or structure, but there wasn’t even that. Shoulders, back, already on their trip being dragged down into the dark depths below.  
Marco wanted Jean to come back because it felt like giving up. It wasn’t just physical space that separated them, but mental, emotional. He could feel Jean pulling away everything and unfortunately nothing Marco did would work. He had noted that Jean had been very distraught before, and as always he had reached out, but not even the supposed Freckled Jesus could pull every soul up from the hell fire that licked at their ankles.

  
And so it was with a heart that gained weight with every beat, growing and growing until he found himself scraping at his chest to release the tremendous pressure, that he turned around and went home that night.

  
He dragged his tired legs home and sat down on his bed, pulling out the dresser drawer beside him and taking out a necklace. It was fairly simple, a black cord with a single charm at the end - a metal circle engraved with a ram. Aries. For Jean. Marco held it in his hands, running his thumb over the raised surface, at first watching the action though his gaze faltered. He chose to look at the wall, any wall, staring more into the space around it than the actual wall itself, thumb still running over it until he felt the first pinprick. The first assault against the dam, a mighty assault that managed to break through its defenses and let loose the torrent of water. He clutched the necklace tight in his fist and let the sobs take over.

  
It was selfish, he felt selfish, crying like this when Jean was off on his own doing God knows what, but it didn’t take from the situation. It didn’t lessen anything, though it did eventually manage to help him calm down and to breathe in, breathe out. He had told Jean that it would be okay, that he would be okay, but truth be told, Marco was going to be about as okay as Jean was or as well as he thought Jean was, until he returned.

  
They were still in neighboring cities and they still saw each other from time to time, but otherwise it was as if the Greek Fates had cut Jean’s string. Even during those moments that they bumped into one another, there was no amount of makeup or coffee that could wake up Jean’s face, nor could they bring the light back to his eyes. He smiled at him every chance we met though, Marco allowed him to know that everything was fine, that I was fine, because I know he didn’t need that guilt. And he knew he would blame himself if he knew, too, but still it was tiring.

  
Jean was on break from everything for nearly a year, and for that year, Marco was tired. Worried. Frazzled. There were no more outbursts of tears like that first time, just a sinking feeling of exhaustion, anything and everything wearing him out. He knew it was wearing Jean out, and every day brought the question: What if he collapses? What then? Would somebody let him know? Would he be allowed to enter the hospital? Or would they send him somewhere else? Somewhere where Marco couldn’t get to him?

  
Thankfully, he didn’t have to find out these answers the hard way as 345 days later there came a knock on the door. Marco’s parents weren’t expecting anybody, nor were any of his siblings, and he wasn’t expecting anybody; the mail had already come and all the neighbors were out. He pondered who it could possibly be and froze when he opened the door.

  
There stood Jean Kirschtein, shivering in his basketball shorts and a tank top outside in the 30 degree weather.

  
“Jea-”

  
They toppled backwards as Jean suddenly wrapped his arms tight around Marco, face buried into his chest. Marco returned the favor, holding Jean as close to him as he could manage and still grasping to bring him closer.

  
He couldn’t manage to bring Jean close enough to his liking, but he succeeded in bringing the floor closer than he liked to him, the tile indents pressing into his back.

  
Functioning as one, Jean picked up on that and they rolled onto the carpet before sitting up.

  
Despite the chill coming in from the still open door, Marco could feel warmth seeping back in, not only to himself, but Jean as well, an array of red parading across his cheeks.

  
Marco laughed then kissed Jean on the forehead before he got up to close the door, then turned to face him just as-

  
ACHOO!

  
“Jean Kirschtein, you did not catch a cold walking around in the dead of winter in a pair of basketball shorts.”

  
Jean averted his gaze, guilty as charged, only drawing a heavy sigh from his boyfriend. He waited for something more but found warmth in his palm as Marco brought him up on his feet and led him over to the couch where he refused to move until Jean had made himself comfortable under the blankets.

  
“I’m fi-”

  
Marco had already bustled out of the room though, and left Jean in the room all alone.

  
Jean shifted under the blankets to follow; he hadn’t come all this way to be abandoned with a bunch of sheets and nothing to do (he could rest, but that was out of the question). He wrestled with the layers of blankets though it was much like trying to pump out water in the midst of a drought. He tried several minutes before giving up with a loud hmph, sinking back into the couch cushions. He counted the flechs on the floor getting to fifty before he called out, “Mar-”

  
Jean wasn’t sure how he had missed the smell but now it was the only thing he could smell, the aroma spreading out across the room from the bowl.  
Marco held up the tray in his arms, “I had already started some stew but you need this more.” He walked over and placed it down on the coffee table in front of Jean then setting a cup of hot tea beside it, and a napkin and fork on the other side. He held up one hand before he left the room again, returning much quicker this time, with a stack of movies in tote.

  
“So what would you like to watch?”

  
Casablanca. Monty Python. Grease.

  
“This is quite the collection you’ve got here.”

  
Marco crawled onto the couch beside him, and gave him a light shove, smile cracking across his face. “Well if you don’t want to watch a movie, I’m fine just sitting here with you.”

  
Jean’s flush tripled under Marco’s loving gaze until he could bare it no longer, burying his face in the sheets.

  
“M-Monty Python.”

  
Marco laughed beside him, and kissed Jean’s forehead then got up to put the movie in. He returned and pushed the food closer to Jean with a stern look. “Eat, it’ll help.”

  
Jean groaned, though he had to admit it did look nice, not as nice as his boyfriend’s side though. He forwent the food snuggling into Marco’s side, his face fitting perfectly into his chest. Oh yeah, this was definitely warmer than any stew or tea could be. He closed his eyes and listened to the steady heartbeat beneath his ear.

  
Badump. Badump. Badump.

  
Music to his ears, and a melody he had memorized and still remembered, even more vividly with the time away. A melody that he had missed for far too long, a melody far too sweet, even sweeter with the time away.

  
Jean’s hand toyed with the end of Marco’s shirt, it was muffling it and it needed to go, he opened his eyes and looked up into Marco’s warm brown eyes, asking permission. He nodded and Jean slid the shirt up, careful to avoid touching his cold hands against his bare flesh then pressed his ear again.

  
The same heartbeat which pumped blood through the veins and arteries in Marco’s body, pumped new life into Jean, the blood running through his own body. He listened and took his fill and then some.

  
“I missed you so much.”

  
He pulled away, locking gaze with his boyfriend. He dare not elaborate, he was red enough as is, any redder and he would be at risk for a fever rather than a cold, but he had missed him. All of him. He hadn’t wanted to risk hurting Marco while he himself was flopping around, but now in hindsight it all seemed so foggy. The slightest of emotion flashed across the freckled face above him and he was aware that Marco had suffered alongside him. He brought his hands up and rested it on the side of Marco’s face.

  
I missed you, Marco. My Marco. I missed our tender touches. I missed your warmth - warmth of heart, mind, body, soul. I missed that voice in my head that even though I often rebuke it, is a relief to have. I missed the furrowed eyebrows, that tug on your mouth that reminds me of the :/ smiley everytime. The wide grin that spreads across your face and ripples across to all the others, so contagious. It might be selfish, but I miss the way your face would completely drop when I was upset and you could do nothing, you thought I wasn’t looking, but I was and I missed that so much. I missed your random texts mentioning some random thing you had seen or read or heard. I missed the bzzt,bzzzt of my phone, the messages piled up when I took a shower without letting you know ahead of time. You worried and cared for me, even when I would tell you not to, and I really did miss that.  
I missed the 15 freckles across your face, and the ever lingering smell of sweat, your nervous twitch of bringing your hand up and resting it along the bridge of your nose. I missed your arms wrapped around me, holding me as if I were a piece of you that was trying to fly away. I missed your laughter that you hated because you thought it sounded rough, when it’s edgy but with a smoothness all its own as it danced its way into my ear. I missed a large piece of myself.

“I love you.” Verbal speech or speech through their actions? Marco or Jean? Neither was quite sure, both only knew that one of the missing pieces had been placed.

Marco placed his hand on Jean’s, both resting on his cheek then brought them over to his lips, planting a light kiss as his other hand moved to wrap around Jean’s bottom, lifting him onto his lap.

  
Jean rested both hands against Marco’s chest, leaving space in between to snuggle his face there as well, adjusting as Marco moved so that he, too, could snuggle into Jean.

  
They moved ever so, wiggling or shifting to snuggle ever closer, the sound of one another’s heartbeat and breath in their ears and drowning out the movie as the main feature began playing.

  
Fingers twirled around strands of hair, reached out to rub circles on bare arms, gripped onto whatever of the body they could grasp. Hair tickling skin, or lips as they bestowed a kiss on it, limbs ever moving, ever shifting. Sliding out of his lap and sitting by his side where two arms wrapped around one arm, head resting on a shoulder. Bodies turning, hands lacing and foreheads touching. Hands intertwined, and pressed to each other’s heart.

Short breaths, closed eyes.

  
“I love you too.”

  
The scratching noise of static alerted the boys that the movie had ended, all without either of them having known it had started. They stared at the screen a moment before both laughed. Marco reached for the remote rewinding it and whispering to Jean that they should watch it this time then crawled under the covers with Jean on the couch.

  
Marco stopped the rewinding a few minutes before the end so that it started with the film calm settling on his face in a gentle smile as he felt Jean relax there by his side. He knew that he wasn’t a magical cure, that he couldn’t make Jean’s problems all fade away forever, but they could both help melt them away for short periods of time, just like now.


End file.
